The Romancing of Ufaro Lavellan
by anyawvossand
Summary: A romantic sequel to Vengeance for Clan Lavellan, the Inquisitor now faces the task of developing a relationship with one of the most dashing members of his team - Dorian Pavus.


The Amulet

_"Living a lie... it festers inside you, like poison. You have to fight for what's in your heart." _

It's been some weeks since I'd accompanied Dorian to Redcliff, where we'd encountered his father at the inn. To learn that he'd been parted from his family over their disgust at his preferences - it's beyond my understanding. How had he suffered such a thing for so long, feeling that way? I wish I'd said something then, to let him know that he wasn't alone, that he is not the only man who enjoys the company of men.

Our discussion back at Skyhold had ended in a kiss. I... wanted it. We'd been flirting since he'd arrived, of course. Then again, he and I both flirt with nearly everyone. That's how we work, and I suspect we do it for similar reasons. Yet in that moment, in that sunny alcove in the quiet library, he'd dropped the facade. He was hurting and alone, and I felt something familiar there. Maybe it was selfish to kiss him, though he didn't seem to mind it.

Since then things have gone back to normal, I suppose. Missions and trips, forays out into the vicious wilderness. But I'm distracted, glancing over at him as we ride down the road with Blackwall and Cassandra. The two warriors are far ahead, discussing matters, mission details, things I can't quiet make out. I'm glad to leave such things in their care – it's their specialty.

Dorian seems disinclined towards chatting this trip. At times I catch him looking at me, his hazel eyes half hidden by lashes before his gaze flick away casually. But this isn't casual... yet it's not more. Do I want it to be more? I'd gotten Leliana's note a few days ago, detailing Dorian's argument with a merchant outside of Skyhold. When I'd asked him about it, he'd made it clear that he didn't want me involved. Of course, I'm not the sort to let something like that go.

I'd met with the man in Val Royeaux, discovering why he wanted the amulet, and what it would take for him to relinquish it. So that's what I've done. Or, rather, what I've had my advisors attend to. Word had just gotten back to me this morning before we'd left - Messieur Ponchard has been extended an invitation to his league of Celestine, just as he'd desired, and has given up the amulet as he'd agreed to.

And right now, the trinket is locked in my desk, back at Skyhold.

I'd wanted to talk to Dorian about it, to give it to him and just settle this, but the mission is important. I suppose they're all important, and things will just have to wait. Still, it's killing me. The ride feels so tedious, and it's hell to be stuck with my own thoughts for hours on end. I want to chat with him, to talk about nonsense. To just... hear him speak to me, and smile at me, and look at me openly.

In a fit of frustration, I frown and dig my heels into my steed, making it suddenly squeal and rear up before dashing ahead. The others look startled, and Cassandra and Blackwall reign over their own horses as I drive mine ahead. This is completely childish, I know, but I don't know what else to do.

Our camp for the night is nestled in beneath a copse of pines, sheltered from the night's wind by the upper swaths of a valley. The fire crackles merrily, and the remnants of the gamebirds I'd shot are being buried in the firepit, the slender, delicate bones blackening in the flames. Someone brought a bottle or two of wine, and it's helping. I smile and joke, smirking when I should, putting them at ease. That odd fit of pique before is all but forgotten, likely chocked up to stress.

That night I offer to take first watch. I'm not going to be getting much sleep anyway, and it's better to have them be comfortable if I can't. The evening here is pleasant – the rolling hills and greensward of the Hinterlands is only a few miles away now, and I know we'll reach it without incident tomorrow. My shoulder rests against the trunk of the ash tree I've chosen for my perch, and my boots sway some twenty feet from the ground. Being a hunter, well, I'm quite used to spending time up in trees.

"Tell me, would it be less distasteful to call your people squirrels?"

My amber eyes blink and look down, finding the dark silhouette below with the silky voice. "How do you mean?"

He chuckles and leans his shoulder against my tree, the metal bits on his outfit glinting in the moonlight, like a field of stars. "The cretins down here call your people rabbits. But rabbits don't climb trees like you do."

I don't mean to smile, but I do, my black lips parting and my white teeth glinting in the moonlight. "No, I suppose they don't. Though I can't say I'd take to being addressed as squirrel, either."

Dorian grunts, looking further down the valley. A few minutes go by in silence, the chirps of crickets and calls of nightbirds filling the darkness, until at last he says "What was that, on the road today?"

Damn. "Don't worry about it, Dorian. I have a lot on my mind" I explain, trying to sound dismissive.

"Well, if you need to go take a walk tonight, I might join you, hmm?" He remains where he is as I quietly climb down from my perch, his head turning slightly towards me as I walk towards him, placing my hand on the tree by his shoulder. "Has it brought you any closure, Ufaro?" he asks quietly.

For a second I thought he was going to pry. I don't know why I feel so suspicious about it. When did I stop trusting people? Does being good at the game mean losing faith in others? Will they all become tools? "Some. Enough, I suppose." My tone makes it clear that I'm not entirely sure about that. I'd like to think that murdering the Duke of Wycome has been enough. It's the only chance I'll ever have to make things anywhere close to right.

Dorian moves closer and cups my cheek, but I turn my eyes down. I can't bear his judgment, if he's giving it. Not even if he approves. When his lips press to mine I shiver, not having expected the kiss. I hardly resist as he guides me back, until my spine is against the bark and his body is against mine, trapping me warmly and possessively. His frame is larger than mine. He's human, after all, and I'm elven, so it's not a shock. Still, my fingers lift nervously, sliding over his hips and higher, moving over his ribs, until at last might right hand slides along his bare, muscular left arm.

When skin touches skin, he breathes out through his nose, warming my cheek as he presses closer, deepening the kiss. I feel dizzy, wanting him and needing this, and I close my eyes to try and forget everything else. His tongue still tastes like wine, and for a moment I imagine what it might be like to trickle drops of that vintage over his elegant body, and sip them up again. The thought makes me moan softly, and he only chuckles into my mouth, pulling away to look down at me.

"I'm a good kisser, it's quite true" he purrs, and shyly I adjust myself, feeling my cheeks burn.

"Yes, well..." My mind goes somewhat blank, and I'm trapped between the warring urges of wanting him to go farther, and being afraid to invite him, in fear of what he'll think of me once I reveal the amulet to him. I don't want to upset him, but I don't want to reject him. This is so complicated. "I'm a screamer. I may wake the others, and they need their sleep."

Dorian just blinks, and I bite my lower lip as the silence becomes unbearable. And then he laughs, nearly doubling over, and I groan with embarassment. In truth, I'm very discrete and quiet, but I had to tell him something.

"Dorian, gods above, will you shut up?!" I hiss, shoving him lightly in the shoulder.

He presses his lips together, though he's still giggling through them even as he wanders off. Before he gets too far, he lifts a hand. "Go and get some rest. It's my turn on watch." He holds it together for three seconds before spluttering all over himself, leaning back against a tree and covering his mouth to stifle himself. Bastard.

When I head back to camp all I want to do is sleep. But Cassandra and Blackwall just glance at me from their bedrolls, which leaves me feeling caught. "Dorian relieved me" I offer lamely.

"He's good at that, from what I hear..." Blackwall mutters with a smirk, and Cassandra snickers.

"No! Just... Oh, shut up. All of you." I'm intensely surly, and I curl up in my sleeping roll, frowning with embarassment, my back to the rest of them for the remainder of the night.

Our business in the Hinterlands is concluded the next day, and the journey back to Skyhold is uneventful. I'm still nervous about how Dorian's going to feel about things, of course, but being distracted with memories of that kiss against the tree helps. Maybe I should have let him relieve me, or maybe I should have relieved myself. Of course, if I'd been caught doing that, Cassandra and Blackwall would never, ever have let me live it down. I think, in that case, I'd prefer to just deliver myself to Corypheus with a bow and be done with it.

When we get back, I give everyone an hour to settle back in, but no longer. I want this over with, however it goes. At the right time, I ascend the curved stairwell from Solas's quarters up to the library, and I find Dorian in his typical spot, by his alcove. I'm plain with him about what happened, wanting to be honest, and trying to make it clear that I wanted to help him, given that things hadn't gone as he'd hoped with his father.

Despite some hesitation about how things might seem, being so near to me and all, I assure him that I don't really care how it looks to others. I may play the game like everyone else, but that's put aside for him. I have to. I need something in my life to be honest. In the end he gives in, thanking me, sincerely grateful for the effort I went to, and for the efforts of my advisors. Perhaps this was a selfish thing on my part, but seeing him happy makes me happy. And the way he kisses me is quite a plus.

I find it curious when he quietly asks if I've been up in my quarters lately. Maybe he's left a present up there for me. I suppose I'd better go check.

I'm feeling so relieved that the short walk down from the library, through the great hall, and up to my quarters is more an exercise in floating. He doesn't hate me. He kissed me again, in fact. I'm certain that's a good thing, right? I'm far better at flirting than romance. I've not had much opportunity to practice, sadly, so every little thing he does catches me by surprise. I think he likes that, to be honest.

My room is the same as it always is. I don't indulge in many fineries, save for my bow and my bed. Surely that says something about me, but if I'm to fight unceasing horrors, I'd at least like to sleep in a canopy bed when I'm back in Skyhold – I ask for so little. My brows knit as I glance at it - the sheets are turned down neatly, and there's no sign of a note or anything on the bed, my couch, or my desk. What had he meant?

"So..."

The voice slithers across the room, and I turn to look as Dorian finishes ascending the stairs into my chambers. I do my best to play it cool, though as he begins to explain how he's not a nice man, and would prefer something more primal than simple flirting, it's difficult to keep my eyes from half-lidding with desire. And when he circles around me, and practically growls the question _how bad does the Inquisitor want to be?_ It takes every bit of will power I have to hide my nerves and say _I thought you'd never ask_.

"I like playing hard to get" he says rakishly, waiting as I turn around to face him.

This is real. This is really happening. My amber eyes narrow further still and I smile, purring back "And now?"

"I'm gotten..."

Our kiss begins flirtatiously, hands on hips, tasting eachother's lips and tongues indulgently. Once again I'm keenly aware of how much stronger he is than me, despite being a mage. That has to be Thedas thinking, that mages are tamed little meek things. Perhaps that's why I'm so swept up with him, because he's like nothing I've ever seen.

This is finally happening, and I don't need to hold back anymore.

My fingers grip the straps of his belt, and I draw him back towards the bed, until I finally shove him onto the sheets. He lands with a grunt and a pleased curl to his lip, and I'm soon looming over him on all fours, hungry, wiry, and intensely aggressive about my need for him. Dorian puts up little resistance as I begin to undress him, my legs straddling his lap as my fingers attend to every knot, buckle, and fixture. Any time he tries to say something sly I silence him with a heated kiss, to the point that I think he starts saying things just to keep it going.

When I finally get him bared above the waist, I blink, breathing heavily. He's gorgeous. I knew he would be, but I've never seen him undressed. Perhaps my infatuation makes me vulnerable, but he seizes the opportunity, rolling over with me until he's gotten me pinned on the bed. His large hands grip mine at the wrists and pin them to the bed by my shoulders, before sliding them up above my head.

His whisper is hot as he breathes "I've trapped you, it seems..."

There's just a touch of menace in it, just enough to make my heart race. I've heard the rumors about Tevinter mages just like everyone else. About the sordid things they do and delight in. His eyes lock onto mine, and I begin to breath faster, my chest rising and falling, and I can feel his knee nudge mine apart. It only makes me feel more vulnerable, which somehow makes me blush more hotly.

"Does our little Dalish squirrel enjoy being trapped?" he teases, and I look away, squirming beneath him, desperately wanting more of this.

With my eyes squeezed shut, I can feel him gather up both my slender wrists in one hand to keep me pinned, while his left hand slides back down my body. I hadn't bothered to change out of my travel clothes, and the sashses I wear around my waist are easily untied. He selects one and pulls it away, using it to tie my wrists together. The feel of the cloth is novel, the bindings firm without being too tight, and they're definitely inescapable. "Are you in the habit of tying people up?" I ask, flexing my dark fingers.

"Only terribly attractive ones." His hand presses down on my tied wrists and he kisses me, causing my back to arch up slightly from the bed. My heartbeat is in my throat as he parts the kiss, his lips brushing against mine as he growls "Be a good boy, and keep your hands where I've left them."

I'm the Inquisitor – no one is supposed to give me commands. Good gods above, I hope he keeps giving me commands.

I obey him, remaining on my back with my arms stretched above my head, my tied wrists resting between the pillows at the head of the bed. My fingers seek out the back edge of the mattress for leverage and I grip at it, flushing and turning my head as he looms over me and slides his tongue along the long, slender edge of my ear. Knife ear. So many humans have called me that. So many humans hate me for this, for my pointed ears, but what kind of magic is this that I feel so good now?

My eyes squeeze shut and I shiver, moaning softly when he nips at the very tip of my ear. My hips move, and I find that his are pressed against them. By now I'm almost completely hard, and with a slow, smooth grind from him, I can tell he's in the same spot. Dorian's full, talented lips kiss down from my ear and along my slender neck while his fingers slowly undress me, removing the jacket, the gloves, the shirt, until I'm finally bared to the waist as well. His kisses don't stop, sliding over my collarbone, over my narrow chest, and down my taut, quivering stomach.

"Have you ever been with a man before?" he asks softly, sliding his tongue over my navel and making me whine.

"No..." The admission is embarassing, but his next question is more so.

Dorian looks up at me from under his dark brows and smirks. "Have you been with a woman?"

I look at him helplessly, my eyes half glazed, my pupils blown wide with desire, and I just shake my head.

"A _virgin_" he breathes, slowly unbuckling my belt to remove my tools. "My, aren't you full of surprises." My lockpicks are set aside, and he begins to unfasten my pants, musing "Given your looks and charm, I'd have thought you'd have fathered at least half the bastard elves in Thedas by now."

My hips writhe as he slowly pulls my pants down, and I gasp, swallowing as I feel my cock, now fully hard, finally freed to the air. "I'd considered dwarven women..." Dorian gives me a strange look, and I smirk as I quip "they're height is so convenient."

That makes him laugh, and his smile is radiant as he removes my boots and my pants completely. "I'd be concerned about their beards! On the men, anyway. And I suppose the women, too. Do dwarven women sport beards? I'll have to ask Varric."

I'm about to note that Harding the scout hasn't the slightest trace of beard, when all of a sudden I feel the most glorious sensation on my cock. Dorian's devilishly talented tongue is sliding slowly along it, until at last he flicks the tip just beneath the head. It makes my hips buck and my toes curl, and I clench my teeth. The man just rests on his hip, resting one hand on the bed as he looks down at me with a playful smirk. Waiting, the fiend.

Finally I cave, and whimper "Please, Dorian..."

The man lifts a brow, still smiling. "Please what?"

For some reason my hands are still obediently at the edge of the mattress, my fingers clenched around the edge, bloodless. "Please use your mouth" I beg in a soft voice. Being made to do that, to beg, sends a ripple down my spine, and a small string of glistening need already drips from my slit.

He takes pity on me, finally, and lowers himself to take my cock into his mouth. It's hot and wet and terribly skilled, and despite wanting to thrust up into it, I let him hold my hips still as he moves his head instead, slowly. My eyes roll up and my eyelids close, my lashes just brushing against my burning cheeks as I moan lewdly. The bridge of my nose just wrinkles slightly, and I hiss past clenched teeth, smiling as the shock of how good it all is subsides into a thrilling ache.

"You don't care that I like men and women, Dorian?" I ask between pants. I'm not sure why I'm bringing it up now, but then again, I'm not in complete control of my faculties.

His chuckle rumbles into my sensitive flesh, and I shudder, clutching the edge of the bed and closing my eyes, afraid I'll be brought over the edge my accident. Dorian sits up slowly, leaving my cock shining but neglected. "I hardly care, Ufaro. I only care that I'm here with you. Just... understand if I decline an invitation to share the bed with some pretty girl. Or Cassandra."

I frown. "Cassandra's pretty, don't be a bastard."

Dorian laughs as he undresses, tossing his clothes onto the floor. "I suppose. If you have a thing for lovers who will overpower you." I flush and scowl, and that only makes his grin brighten. "But then again... you do have a thing for being commanded, don't you?" The fact that my cock twitches in spite of myself is all the evidence he could ever need.

Perhaps to try and refute the obvious, or just to be contrary, I let go of my hold on the edge of the bed and bring my hands down to my chest, lifting an eyebrow out him. He coos softly at my disobedience, and I smirk, slowly rolling to my side to press my bound hands to the bed.

Which, of course, is just the invitation he wants.

His knee presses to the mattress behind my thighs, and I feel his hand slide into my black, shoulder length hair and grip it at the roots firmly. I gasp as my head is pulled back, and my heart races, my fingres gripping the sheets. Slowly I roll my amber eyes up to look at him, and he looks down at me with a thoughtful, hungry expression.

His free hand caresses its fingertips along my throat, all the way across it, and he leans down to whisper into my ear "You'd look so divine with a collar around your neck..."

To my knowledge, only pets and slaves wear collars, and despite the fact that I consider slavery abhorrent... for some reason my nipples are painfully tight, making me shiver and whine as he slides his hand down my chest to pinch at them. "Don't move, hmm?"

Suddenly I'm left lying on my side, shivering, breathing hard, my pupils huge as I consider what he'd do if I were his slave. He'd told me that his family kept slaves back in Tevinter. Dorian looks through his pants for something, sliding a hand into a pocket to pull out a small, metal vial. When he comes back, he moves me onto all fours, parting my knees to leave me exposed.

"Will it hurt?" I ask timidly.

The question makes him roll his shoulders, his fingers carefully unscrewing the little cap. "I'll be gentle with you, of course. You like it rough, obviously, but there's such a thing as too much." I nod, closing my eyes and looking down at my hands. My head turns, and I glance over my shoulder at him as he adds "If you want me to stop, just say so and I will." I nod, and take in a deep breath through my nose, gripping at the sheets with my tightly-curling fingers.

I can't see what he's doing, but I can guess. Two fingertips, slickened with oil, slide over my star, massaging it to get it relaxed. I'm not completely ignorant – I know how sex between men works, of course. A sharp gasp presses past my lips as he slides one finger inside of me slowly, letting my body get used to it. Dorian takes his time, feeling how I gradually relax, especially when his touch rubs over a certain spot inside that makes me shiver. A second finger joins the first and I bite my lip, gripping the sheets tighter. It's tight, but again I relax around his touch, starting to enjoy this odd sensation.

My heart skips a beat when I finally feel him shift closer on the mattress, and his fingers slide away. His knees press to the bed between my calves, and I have to part my legs further to make room for him. And then I can feel his cock sliding its length between my ass cheeks, the shaft and head already slippery with oil. I'm not sure if I'm ready for him. I've not been allowed to touch him, but from the glimpses I've seen, his cock is larger than mine.

This will probably ache.

"As I said, tell me to stop at any point and I will."

With that last word of caution, he uses a hand to direct the head of his cock to my star. It clenches a little in anticipation, but as he presses forward. I feel the round tip demand entry with more and more and more pressure, until at last my body rinally relents, and he slips an inch or so inside my body.

"Maker's balls..." I growl, and I can feel Dorian grip my hips tightly with both hands, a hot gasp slipping from his lips.

"You weren't lying about the whole virgin thing, clearly" he groans, and I can feel his cock twitch inside the vice of my ring.

"Why would I lie about that?" I ask incredulously. "What a crazy thing to lie about. You'd think I'd boast about being accomplished." And again, I'm feeling contrary. My hands and knees shift just a little, to give me better leverage, and I begin to move my hips, just the tiniest bit, just enough to feel him move inside me. It makes my back ripple, and though I'd like to touch at my cock (which I can see is dripping by now), I can't. Blast this frustrating bondage on my wrists.

Slowly, Dorian pushes deeper, waiting for me to open up. He's surprisingly patient, waiting for my slender body to respond, until at last his hips are against mine. The sensation of having him inside me completely is amazing. It's like and unlike how I'd thought it would be, and I smile, especially when he slides a gentle hand down along my back. Is he petting me? I... find that while I should proobably find that demeaning, I just want him to keep doing it.

"There's only one problem with this position" he muses, grinding his hips against mine, thrusting slowly and deeply.

My response is breathless. "Oh?"

When his fingernails slowly rake along my side, my arms nearly give out beneath me, leaving me to grit my teeth and shudder. "You can't see my beautiful face this way. If we had a mirror that'd be one thing. But seeing as we don't..." He slowly pulls his length out of me and I grunt, feeling stretched and empty and desperate. I look at him over my shoulder, brow knit, dismayed.

And then he grips me by the hair again and rolls me onto my back. I cry out, half from pain and half from pleasure, looking up at him with hazy eyes as he shifts in again. I'm pliant like a ragdoll as he moves my legs until my knees are pushing against my chest. His strong hands brace on the backs of my thighs, keeping me pinned as he sinks into me again, using a slow curl of his hips to guide him without his hands.

The feeling of his thick cock slipping back inside more easily this timemakes me catch my breath, my bound hands moving to press against his chest without any real force. Dorian shifts, moving his knees in beneath my lower back, tipping me back a little onto my shoulders and shoulderblades as I curl for him. Now he can lower himself, parting my legs so his mouth can find my own. My breath is shaky, timid and desperate just before our lips press together, and his kiss devours me, wanting me as much as I want him.

My hands slip out from between us, until I can drape them behind his neck, letting my palms and fingers cup the back of his skull to cradle his kiss. For just a moment the kiss parts, his lips against brushing over mine, leaving sparks along the edges of his words as he asks "Do you like this, Ufaro?"

"Yes..." is all I can manage to say, pulling him back into the kiss with a whimper as his hips begin thrusting even harder. The bed frame squeaks now with his rhythm, and my shoulders burn and grind as he takes me as hard as he likes. It feels so good to feel him thicken and twitch inside me, and to feel his body grow tense between my legs. I know he's close. I can feel it.

When his hand slips between us to grip my shaft and stroke it quickly, I almost choke, my stomach clenching. I want to thrust into his grip but I can't, forced to accept his touch, his stroke, his rhythm as he gives it. And his hand, oh gods, his hand is so skilled. He guides my arms back behind my head, and without being told to, I grip at the edge of the mattress again. My breathing is ragged, shredding as I grow closer and closer and closer, until finally I buck and grit my teeth, squeezing my eyes closed.

Thick, hot, white cum oozes between his fingers as he milks me, my spurts caught by his fingers and palm so that I don't hit myself in the face. His tight touch is a torment, making me clench everything, especially around him. Dorian's thrusts slow, grow deeper and deeper, until at last he catches his breath and groans, his body rock hard. Deep within, I can feel his cock pulse again and again, the fit that much tighter for the seed he's leaving.

Seconds seem like hours, and we both just linger as we are. I can feel some of my muscles fluttering as they unclench, various little cramps releasing themselves. As Dorian finally withdraws from me, I practically melt onto the bed, laying where he leaves me. Again I'm left feeling empty, though the slick feeling remains, and I slowly pull my legs together, not wanting to leak onto the sheets. Somewhere in the back of my mind I know I'm going to have to wash up. There's a water basin around here somewhere, and a small cloth. But getting it would require moving, wouldn't it?

My awareness is a little addled, because it only feels like it's been moments since Dorian left the bed, but he's suddenly back, kneeling by my hips. Chilly, wet cloth is wiped over my genitals and between my cheeks, and I wince, frowning at him sullenly. He just looks at me patiently, waiting until I finally pout "It's... cold."

"Yes, yes it is. But cleanliness is next to godliness, after all."

After a particularly rough swipe between my cheeks, I groan and finally sit up, blinking slowly and wincing at the sunlight still coming in through the windows. My amber eyes gaze out at the snowy mountains even as he unties my wrists, but before he can ask, I look back at him, trying to let him know that I'm alright. Despite wishing that everything beyond those windows was gone, I'll be alright.

He pats my leg and takes the cloth back to the wash basin, then lingers by the windows thoughtfully, still completely naked. After a time, he finally muses "I like your quarters."

By now I'm finally recovered enough to have regained most of my attitude, which is playful and somewhat bratty to say the least. "Do you, now?"

Somehow this leads us into a discussion about where this is going, whether it will remain just a physical thing or something more. I try to figure out how he feels, and encourage him to tell me what he wants, and eventually he admits that he'd like something far more than flirting and dalliances. It would seem that, back in Tevinter, men simply don't form romantic relationships – sex between them is only a physical pleasure, not an emotional one. I suppose that would explain the dismay of his family, and his own anger with their opinions.

I consider my own feelings. Am I ready for a relationship like this? I'm the Inquisitor – what if I die tomorrow? What would that do to him? Yet the fact that this is my first concern tells me what I need to know, and I quietly say that I want us to be more. I want us to be a couple, that what we feel is real and decent and good. His relief is very typical Dorian – honest, but wrapped up in wit and velvet.

I may well die tomorrow. The world might end. But we will have today. I can, at least, give him that.


End file.
